Chapter 1257: No Easy Thing, This Close-Quarter Blade-Fight

The chiliarch knew he had brought this trouble on himself, and could only hang his head and accept the order. Just as he was about to leave, Zhang Jixian added: "No one is to fire at will without a direct order. If you hit our own troops, I will deal with you under martial law!"

The artillery chiliarch left with a string of obsequious yes-sirs. The booming cannon fire had ceased at some point without anyone noticing. Commander Zhang Jixian let out a breath, thinking that the bandit army's cannons had already fired one volley, and it would take them some time to fire a second. He had to charge through during this window, otherwise the formation would not hold.

"Cavalry, charge the enemy line! All units stand ready and press forward when the moment comes!"

"Any who hesitate or refuse to advance shall face field execution under martial law — cut down without mercy!" Zhang Jixian gave the order. The orderlies around him roared their assent in unison and spurred their horses toward the various battalions. War drums pounded with a deep, resonant beat. Throughout the government army's main force, every man was shouting and yelling uncontrollably — partly to cheer themselves on, partly to vent the pent-up tension from the earlier cannonade.

Up ahead, the cavalry squadrons could be seen surging forward with battle cries, their hoofbeats like thunder, dust billowing into the air. Banners and pennants of every unit fluttered and snapped, and countless blades and spears glittered with cold light. At this magnificent sight, Commander Zhang Jixian felt somewhat relieved. With such formidable strength, the government army could crush any foe. Those Xuzhou bandits would not be running rampant much longer!

"Send word to the commanders of the western army — they are to move out now, strike and pin down the bandit horde's left flank. No mistakes!" Zhang Jixian issued order after order.

Now that everything that needed doing had been done, Commander Zhang Jixian's heart still hung suspended. A veteran of many battles, he understood perfectly well that this attack had been rushed. The proper way would have been to deploy at leisure, send troops to probe and skirmish, then decide whether to advance or retreat. But the moment the bandit cannons roared — and proved they could reach his own formation — leisure became impossible. Army morale was shaky and hard to sustain. If he ordered a withdrawal at this juncture, the Xuzhou bandits would seize the chance to press the attack, and the result would likely be a rout. Rushed as it was, with the rhythm thrown off, there was no other choice.

The weather was not particularly hot, yet sweat already beaded Zhang Jixian's forehead. He felt a tightness in his chest. The realm had been at peace — the Mongols to the north and the Jurchens to the east were mere minor irritations, irrelevant to the greater situation within the passes, while the southwestern chieftains were limited in scope, their rebellions confined to at most two provinces and quickly put down. So how, under such circumstances, had these Xuzhou bandits suddenly sprung up, so fierce and powerful, repeatedly smashing government encirclement campaigns, and even fighting their way to the outskirts of Shuntian Prefecture...

Several thousand government cavalry charged, and the sheer momentum was earth-shattering. Every man among them felt like a giant, unstoppable — nothing under heaven could withstand such a surge. Anything that stood in their way would be smashed and trampled to pieces...

At the very front charged the remnant cavalry of the Two Yangs' forces. As cavalrymen, they had always been well-treated in the government army. Most of those who had left were unwilling to simply turn bandit, and had come to the Tianjin main camp, where the various units had scrambled to take them in and distribute them among themselves. Their pay and provisions were indeed decent. But outsiders were outsiders after all, and this time they had been thrust to the very front.

At this point, there was no room for regret or desertion. The elite cavalry of Xuanfu and Ji Garrison were more than willing to enforce field martial law. Yet the Two Yangs' cavalry had witnessed the Xuzhou Grand Army's firearms in Henan and Shandong, and the knot in their hearts hardly needed mentioning.

Once their mounts were galloping, however, there was little time to dwell on such things. What set the Two Yangs' remnant cavalry somewhat at ease was that the soul-shaking, mountain-crushing cannon that had shattered the artillery position had not boomed again since. This emboldened them, at least a little.

The government cavalrymen at the very front, now able to see the foremost line of Zhao's Army's formation, were all baffled. This massive, awe-inspiring wave of cavalry was rolling forward, yet the bandit army's front line had no chevaux-de-frise or fieldworks for cover, their formation looked loose and scattered, and — third — not a single man was fleeing or wavering. They just stood there dumbly, waiting. Was this suicide?

Those nearer the front could make out some details. The bandit army's forward ranks appeared to be carrying firearms. What damn use was that? Within thirty paces, they might graze the skin a little, and the smoke and dust they kicked up could choke a man and spook the horses — and then they'd be ridden down and cut to pieces. So why were those Two Yangs' remnants up ahead slowing down? And why were some trying to wheel around and flee?

"Death to any who flee the field!" officers of the Xuanfu and Ji Garrison cavalry bellowed. In that din, shouts were barely audible. They had no expectation that their voices alone would keep the men in line — they acted directly.

On a jolting horseback, at a distance, drawing a bow and hitting a target was no easy task. Yet several men were struck by arrows and toppled from their saddles. They never even got a chance to rise before the cavalry behind trampled over them, turning them into a pulp of blood and flesh. This immediate, merciless execution swiftly brought the ranks back under control.

The distance of a thousand-odd paces closed rapidly. In the process of enforcing discipline and reforming ranks, the government cavalry gradually split into several sections. The Two Yangs' remnants at the front formed the arrowhead. Behind them, the elite troops of the various units formed a second arrowhead. Further back still, the main force was organized into squadrons of a hundred-odd riders each — a standard tactic of the Great Ming's government forces.

If they failed to break through on the first impact, they would hammer it a second time. Once the line cracked, the small squadrons would coalesce into a great mass, tearing the enemy formation wide open. After that, it would be pursuit and slaughter. Looking at the Xuzhou bandit army's formation before them — a loose, sprawling horizontal line at the front, with several dozen paces between that line and the main body further back. What use was such a formation? Once the first layer was broken, those routed soldiers would be driven by the cavalry into their own ranks, throwing them into chaos. Layer after layer would collapse. This was suicide.

Those on the western edge of the government cavalry force could also see that the cavalry from the Baoding and Shanxi troops to the east had begun to move as well. They would swing in a wide arc and then strike the bandit army's left flank. This gave everyone even greater confidence. A combined assault by several thousand elite cavalry from two directions — how could the bandit horde possibly withstand it?

At that moment, more than one man was thinking: if the court could muster this many cavalry to meet the Jianzhou Jurchen caitiffs beyond the passes head-on, they might well be able to win. But officers of chiliarch rank and above knew better. Only here, on the flat plains of Northern Zhili, could so many troops be concentrated at once. Only at a critical grain-storage hub like Tianjin could they be supplied. And even then, they dared not venture far, forced to encamp and give battle at Jinghai County. Anywhere else, a single army of twenty thousand men was already the absolute limit, and supplying fodder and provisions would be a monumental headache. Sarhū had been exactly that.

As for those Two Yangs' remnant cavalry at the very front — no matter how their hearts pounded or how they cursed their mothers, as the distance shrank, such thoughts scattered like smoke. Caught in this rolling tide of cavalry, they were no longer masters of their own bodies. To stay alive, they could only charge through. Only forward could they escape the trampling and the enforcers behind them. Only forward!

Within the foremost arquebusier ranks of Zhao's Army, at regular intervals, men raised the banners in their hands. These banner-bearers were all squinting, observing the front, gauging the distance between the two sides.

"Check your matchcords!" The shouts rose one after another. Every arquebusier was gently blowing on the matchcord clamped in the serpentine, ensuring the ember did not die out. The forked rests supporting their barrels transmitted the trembling of the ground to the arquebuses, making the muzzles quiver constantly — it was nearly impossible to hold them steady. As the soldiers struggled desperately to keep their aim, they consoled themselves: the enemy formation was so dense, if they just leveled their pieces and fired, they were bound to hit something.

"Fire!" "Fire!" The squad leaders and company commanders shouted at the top of their lungs, their banners slashing down hard. With them as the endpoints, the arquebusier line fired in sequence. Puffs of white smoke bloomed from the muzzles, but no one heard any sound — all anyone could hear were the hoofbeats.

Just as in every battle, the government cavalry charging at the front suddenly collapsed onto their horses, or their mounts abruptly stumbled, sending riders tumbling, or the horses began bucking and rearing wildly, throwing the surrounding formation into chaos. Yet those who fell or flailed were quickly swallowed by the great tide surging from behind. Then the second rank of the forward line opened fire.

The third rank. The fourth. The fifth. Volley after volley of arquebus fire finally slowed the momentum of the government charge, if only for a moment. According to government army drill manuals, if arquebusiers were arrayed in five ranks, they could maintain a continuous cycle of fire, never ceasing. But in Zhao's Army, once each rank had fired, they turned and ran back, stopping in front of the pike formation and within the gaps between pike blocks to reload their ammunition.

With a range of a few dozen paces, and having bought another few dozen paces by stalling the enemy's momentum, every man could safely run back. Under the cover of the pike formation, they began reforming ranks, reloading, and firing again. The government cavalry did not flinch in the slightest — they simply pressed forward with all their might, desperate to deny the bandits any window to reload. Once they closed in, firearms would be useless, and they could tear open the bandit horde's formation directly.

What they never imagined was the speed at which Zhao's Army's arquebusiers could reload. The unceasing, maddeningly tedious drill training was precisely for this moment. Though the hoofbeats roared like thunder, though the government cavalry screamed battle cries and curses, Zhao's Army's arquebusiers simply loaded mechanically according to the drill manual, then opened fire.

This stretch of distance was enough for them to finish loading and fire. As long as they were not rattled by the external din. After this volley, the arquebusiers did not reload again. Instead, they ducked into the gaps between the various pike squares. By this time, the government cavalry had already thinned out considerably compared to before...

Ten regiments, over three thousand arquebusiers and archers. On that battlefield, every single one of them had fired at least twice within effective range. No matter how the formation had thinned, no matter the density of fire, government cavalry casualties had already approached thirty percent. Coupled with the corpses of men and horses now blocking their path, both the momentum and speed of the charge had slowed dramatically.

These bandits' firearms were indeed deadly sharp. The cavalrymen of Xuanfu and Ji Garrison had now realized this. But at this distance, with the bandit infantry formation right in front of them, if they did not charge at least once, would it not all have been for nothing? Perhaps this one charge would break them outright. They were already this close!

At such close range, to turn around would mean total collapse. Those in front who turned would be bowled over, trampled, and even cut down by those behind. After all, they were this close. Charge once. They were only bandits, after all. At this distance, not even the legendary wolf-like, tiger-fierce Jianzhou Jurchens could hold — let alone mere bandit troops!

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